


The Glass

by JasperMoore



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Coming Out, Graphic depiction of self-harm in chapter 4, Jasper works through some things, Modern AU, explicit suicide plan in chapter 4, nobinary Loki, please please please please please don't take it as such, this is not a how-to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-03-24 11:18:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasperMoore/pseuds/JasperMoore
Summary: The adventures of nonbinary Loki navigating the coming-out process.I want no comments on this. Absolutely none. Comment all you want on my other works, but please, for the love of anything, don't comment on this.





	1. Half Full

Frigga cries when they tell her.

Otherwise, it goes well.

\--------------------------------------------

Loki had not originally intended to tell her quite then. All they wanted was their mother’s company. The medicines they take stabilize their moods and mental state, but they aren’t- sometimes they fail, and Loki _hurts_. They had called her for company, and she had agreed to come.

Frigga picks them up from the parking lot outside their dorm, and the first thing Loki does is lean over the center console to hug her. 

“Thank you, Mother,” they mumble. 

“Any time, sweetheart.”

She drives them around town, and they talk. How are her classes going? Fine, Mother, thank you. How are Sigyn and Tony? They’re doing well, Mother. What’s that on her wrist?

Loki grimaces and pulls the sleeve of their jacket down, as Frigga shifts the car into park outside a little japanese restaurant. 

“I had a lapse,” Loki manages, bringing their fingers up to trace over their lip. “I’ve already talked to Dr. Harris about it.” 

Frigga’s eyes are tense and worried as they flick back down to Loki’s covered wrist, where two lumpy scabs cover the rips they’d worn into the thin skin. She doesn’t press the matter, for which Loki is indescribably grateful. They’re ashamed, of what they do. Every time their mind clears, they hate their weakness, their inability to manage a normal range of human emotions. They don’t allow themself anything sharper than scissors anymore, but they still have nails and teeth, and they can’t exactly rid themself of those. 

“I’m here for you, whatever you need,” she says simply, and offers a smile before climbing out of the car. Loki joins her, and together they enter the restaurant.

They’re seated at a corner booth. Frigga comments on the noise level, but Loki finds it quieter than the dining halls. They each order a plate of sushi and talk. Loki finds themself going still, as they fold and shred the paper casing of the chopsticks over and over.

“Mother?” they venture, eyes focused entirely on the paper in their hands. “I would like you to know, I’m about to do something impulsive. This isn’t the reason I called you. I really just needed you, my mother. I had actually planned on telling you next month, but I want to do it now.” They take a deep breath, lets it out. “I’m filing for a name change. Over spring break, I’m going to take my application to the courthouse. I’m going to change my name to Loki, and I need to do this, because I’m nonbinary, and while I know you gave me the name ‘Lucy’ out of love, I need something a little more neutral.”

Not that ‘Loki’ is 100% neutral. It’s just- it’s better. It’s much better. And it’s _Loki’s_. 

Frigga swallows, her eyes wide, and she struggles for her words. Loki rips evenly-spaced lines in the edge of the paper, effectively fraying it. Frigga takes a sip of her drink, and nods. 

“Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Loki lets out a shuddering breath, their eyes wet. 

“I need you to use my name, or at least- make an effort. I’m not going to be angry if you slip up. I’ve been ‘Lucy’ to you for almost twenty one years. I know- I know it’s a bit of a shock.”

Frigga chews on her lip. Her eyes are wet as well. 

“Explain to me what nonbinary means, please.”

“Nonbinary is a blanket term for people who aren’t ‘man’ or ‘woman’. We’re something else. A third gender, for some of us. Or someone without gender, for others of us. There are so _many_ more specific terms, but I’m fine with being general and saying I’m nonbinary.” Loki offers a watery smile. 

“So you’re transgender?” 

“Maybe? I don’t know. There’s some debate on whether nonbinary people are trans, but I just know- I know I’m not a woman, and I’ve known for many, many years.” Loki runs a hand through their hair, tucking it behind their ear. “I remember growing up, and being twelve, thirteen, fourteen- I used to find someplace out of sight and cry whenever we had to go shopping for clothes. I couldn’t figure out what- why I was so bad at being what I was supposed to be. What was wrong with me.”

“Oh honey, there’s nothing wrong with you!” Frigga disagrees, reaching across the table to take Loki’s hand. A wet laugh punches out of Loki.

“I know that _now_ ,” they agree, dabbing at their eyes with a napkin. “I have the words to describe myself now.” They swallow, glancing up at their mother. “Are you alright?”

Frigga looks on the verge of tears herself. Frigga nods, and shrugs. 

“I am. Really. I just- It feels like the death of my daughter,” she whispers, and Loki’s heart aches. 

They aren’t hurt, or offended. They simply- Loki knows that nothing has changed about themself. They’re still the same person they always were. They’ve always been nonbinary, and it’s just that now they know themself. But to Frigga? Loki wishes they knew what to tell her. They offer to help Frigga find resources for parents of transgender kids, but Frigga dismisses them.

“I just need to know what _you_ need,” Frigga responds.

Loki resolves to send her links anyways, because they know their mother. Frigga doesn’t process things. She sits on them as though hoping a failure to address them will make everything better and easier to handle.

Loki hugs their mother, when Frigga drops them back off at the dorms.

“I love you so much, Mother,” they whisper, holding on tight. “I feel so much lighter now.” 

“Really?” Frigga laughs, petting her fingers over Loki’s back. 

Loki draws back, smiling. 

“Oh, absolutely.”


	2. Half Empty

Odin is silent when they tell him.

It goes about as well as expected.

\--------------------------------------------

Loki texts their father at midnight, asking if they could have dinner together, once Loki gets off work the next day. Sometime in the later morning, Odin replies.

‘Sounds nice,’ he texts back. A time is set.

Work ends, and the sun still hovers on the horizon, not quite dipping below yet. Loki sits and waits, chewing on their nails. The pick at the healing scar tissue on their wrist, pulling away flaked of dry, dead skin. They wait. And wait. Time seems to stretch on forever, and Loki’s anxiety mounts higher. 

‘Leaving home now. Have eaten but can sit with you if you want. Let me know where to meet you.’

Loki stares at the screen, blinking back tears of fear and irritation. So much for dinner. They aren’t hungry anyways. To be perfectly honest, they’re pretty sure they’ll throw up if they eat something. 

‘Let’s just get tea or coffee. I’ll be at the cafe.’

They stand abruptly and walk out of the shop where they work, wallet and phone in hand. They order hot tea- floral green- and sweeten it liberally, contrary to usual habits. They have the feeling they’ll need the sugar.

Loki takes a seat and sips their tea, a pile of napkins already beside them. They know there will be tears. As much as they know Odin loves them, cares for them, wants what’s best for them- the relationship they have with their father has always been strained at best. Loki can remember good times, when they would play together on the trampoline, or when Odin gently took their hand and explained that the baby bird the cat got to was beyond help, or when Loki had hit a deer in their mother’s care and needed support after watching the injured thing be shot. Odin cares for them. Odin provides.

But Odin- Odin does not like being told he has made a mistake. Does not like being asked to cease an action, no matter if doing so would help Loki tremendously. Loki knows this. Loki remembers. They remember asking Odin to give them space to calm down, and being ignored until in a panic Loki had fled the house to hide in the woods. They remember asking Odin to cease his jokes about killing Loki’s little bird, and being snapped at to learn how to take a joke. They remember all the times they’d cried and been threatened with some unknown punishment that never came. They remember Odin talking down on other trans people, mocking their desire to use the correct bathroom or be recognized as they are. Firmly stating, before Loki and Thor and Frigga and Loki’s aunts and uncles, that _these people_ were unreasonable for demanding people change just because they wanted to be special.

Loki loses their words, when they talk with Odin. Odin demands specific examples, evidence and dates of Loki’s distress, but Loki’s memory is spotty- a result of acute distress, according to Dr. Harris. Loki’s brain is protecting them. Loki wishes their brain might take a hint and unlock the memories needed to defend themself against Odin’s irritated questions.

Loki grinds the meat of their palm into one eye, taking a steadying breath. They count, slowly. One through thirty six, before they calm down again. They check their phone. It’s been twenty three minutes since Odin announced he was leaving home.

When Odin arrives, Loki nearly cries right then and there. They feel their heart pounding like a drum, and they gently trace the pad of their thumb over the scars on their wrist to feel the oversensitive zing. 

“So what has you so stressed, Lucy?” Odin asks jovially, taking a seat with his coffee. 

Loki swallows, and says: “I’m filing for a name change.” Odin’s face is blank, and Loki surges on. “I had originally planned to file the form and then tell you after, but I thought it would be more respectful to tell you ahead of time. I’m nonbinary, and I need my name to reflect that. I’ve been anxious because you don’t seem to have a high opinion of trans people, and I was worried how you’d react.”

There. No taking it back now. 

Odin sips as his coffee.

“What’s wrong with Lucy?” Odin inquires, voice level. 

“Lucy is too feminine. I appreciate- I know you gave me that name out of love, but I need to change it. I’m changing it to ‘Loki’.”

The genderfluid trickster god. Loki thinks it’s fitting.

Odin smiles, and says: “Alright. How about you change it to ‘Loki’, and I’ll just call you ‘Lucy’ as my little nickname.”

Irritation flares in Loki, and they stay firm.

“No, Father. I need- I need to be Loki. I _am_ Loki. I’ve been using that name for two years now, and I just-” Loki breaks off, taking another calming breath. “I need to be called Loki.”

“Why were you so nervous telling me? I’m very tolerant.”

Loki grimaces, dabbing their eyes with a napkin.

“You’ve just- You talk about how trans women are just men trying to get into women’s bathrooms, and it- I was scared.”

“So you were afraid of my reaction.” Odin nods sharply, and adjusts his grip on the coffee cup. “Like I said, I’m very tolerant. I can see both sides to the story, but it’s unreasonable. These people are making a fuss and demanding the whole world change just because they want something.”

“I’ve been stopped from using the bathroom before,” Loki blurts impulsively, then grimaces. They have Odin’s full attention. They gesture at their face. “I make an effort- an effort to look neutral. Um. I’ve been- someone told me I couldn’t go into the women’s restroom. They said it was for women only.”

“Where was this?”

“In the science library. I just- they left me alone, after a little while.”

The encounter had left Loki feeling extremely uncomfortable. The only thing giving away Loki’s sex would have been their breasts, and Loki hates the thought that someone passed judgment on them for an aspect they _loathe_. 

“Did you tell them you’re a woman?”

“But I’m _not_ ,” Loki snaps, green eyes locking briefly onto Odin’s before sliding away again. “I’m not going to _lie_ about myself to get what I want.”

“Well are you a man or are you a woman?”

“Neither. I’m _nonbinary_ , father.”

Odin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temple.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, this is all sort of coming out of left field, for me. I can’t stop you- you know that. You’ve been Lucy to me for almost twenty one years now. You can’t expect me to just switch that because you want to change your name.”

“I _need_ to change my name, because it is _important_ to me,” Loki corrects, annoyed. It’s a favorite tactic of Odin’s- to profess one thing, like acceptance, while twisting Loki’s words to imply something else. Like calling their needs a want instead. Trivializing what they feel and experience rather than offering acknowledgement. “I expect you to make an effort. That’s all I need from you right now. I need you to make an effort to call me by the right name. Eventually, I’m going to need you to support me when I ask the rest of the family to use my name, but for now- All I need is for you to try.”

“You want to ask the rest of the family to call you Loki too?” Odin repeats, aghast- as though the concept of Loki asking their uncles and aunts and grandparents to call them the right name is unthinkable. Loki wets their lips.

“Yes. I plan on making this legal, and I need to be called Loki by everyone.”

“What’s next. If you do this, what comes next.”

Loki scratches lightly over the scars. 

“Eventually, once I have ten thousand dollars just lying around, I’ll pursue top surgery. I don’t feel the need to go on any hormones or have any other surgery. All I need is a flat chest and a name.”

“And this will make you happy. Like your tattoo made you happy.”

Loki’s mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water. What- They swallow. The tattoo on their arm was acquired as a symbol of victory on their twentieth birthday, as a way to celebrate their decision not to commit suicide when they were fifteen, and their decision not to abide by the expiration date they had set for themself in that teenage year. And yet, it’s a method of artistic expression as well. Something paid for, for the purpose of being beautiful.

Not at all like a gender identity. The tattoo was an aesthetic choice. Gender? Gender is _not_ an aesthetic _choice_.

“It will make me _very_ happy,” they hiss. 

“I understand that you want to change your name.” Loki flinches. _Want_ again. 

“I _need_ to change my name,” they insist.

“All I want for you are three things: for you to be happy, safe, and self-sufficient. You’re in college. You’re almost twenty one. You need to be careful, that you don’t make choices now that will affect your ability to be self-sufficient later on.” Loki gulps at their hot tea, just to feel the burn of it searing across their tongue and down their throat. Nothing permanent. No scars. 

“I’m not making a choice. And it’s not-” They huff a bitter laugh. “It isn’t recent. I’ve been feeling this way since I was _twelve_. Introducing myself as ‘Loki’ hasn’t had any impact on my grades, either.”

Loki knows Odin means ‘impact’ as in ‘no one’s going to want to hire a tranny freak’, though Odin will never say it in such crude words. Loki wants to leave. They’ve said what they came to say, and they’re tired now. 

Odin regards Loki carefully, then sighs. 

“Like I said: you’re an adult. If you want to change your name, I can’t stop you- not that I want to. I just ask that if you’re around my office, coming to get the car or for some other reason, and someone says ‘Hey, Lucy’ or something like that- don’t correct them. You don’t need to correct people. Eventually they’ll just fall into line.”

The request is entirely for Odin’s benefit. This, Loki can see immediately. Loki doesn’t want to play his games.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Loki mutters, tightening their grip on the tea. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Odin demands. Loki sits up a little straighter.

“It _means_ I’ll make that decision on a case-by-case basis,” they grind out. “If it’s important to me, I’ll pursue it. If it isn’t important in the situation, I won’t.”

 

There’s a speech, afterwards, as Odin tries to take the painful conversation and turn it into a learning experience. Odin waxes poetic about how Loki and their mental illness helps Odin relate to other people, how Loki opened Odin’s eyes to certain issues, how Loki is courageous. Loki just wants to be done with the whole affair. They _hate_ Odin’s speeches.

When Odin leaves, Loki elects to remain behind and finish their tea, but Odin delivers a parting shot that leaves a bitter taste in Loki’s mouth.

“You’ll always be my baby Lucy to me.”

“Except I’m not,” Loki retorts. “I’m Loki, and I need you to use my name.” 

“How about this for a start, _Loki_ ,” Odin offers sweetly, as though he’s giving Loki some sort of gift. Loki realizes abruptly that they’ve been begging for scraps this whole time, putting Odin in the position of power. Odin has what Loki wants. 

The use of Loki’s name, too, feels like a violation- like some sort of mockery. They got what they wanted, and yet somehow, they feel dirty and soiled for the process.

Odin leaves, and Loki waits until their father is out of sight. Then, they lay their head down on the table.

They cry.


	3. Cracked

Loki comes by Odin’s office on Monday morning, just as they do every Monday morning at 8:30 to borrow the car. They meet with Dr. Harris on Monday mornings. The day is rainy, and Loki has their hood pulled over their head to protect them from the sky.

When they retrieve the key from the special panel beneath the back bumper, they sling their backpack into the passenger seat a freeze, a lump in their throat.

A folded piece of white letter paper sits in the driver’s seat, and Loki is filled with a sort of empty, sickening anguish. 

‘LUCY’, says the outside of the paper, written in large, black pen letters. 

Loki considers ignoring the paper. In fact, they throw it to the other side of the car, which dislodges the gift card tucked inside. This. _This_ fills Loki with _anger_. 

They asked one immediate thing from Odin. One thing. Use the right name. And Odin- Lucy. And there’s a gift card. Like money is going to be any sort of balm against the rejection of Loki’s existence. 

Loki cries. They pull out of the parking lot and drive through the rain, half-hoping they’ll hydroplane and spin and die in a car crash, just to be done with the hurt in their chest. They imagine pulling into the grocery store before their appointment- they have time. And no one blinks an eye when you buy a package of safety-razor blades. No one asks questions.

No. _No._ Loki doesn’t _want_ to. They don’t. They _don’t_.

Loki parks outside Dr. Harris’s office and sits there, face in their hands as too-loud music washes over them. They breathe.

They read the note.

_Your mother and I are not your enemy. Now that you’ve spoken to us both separately, we think it’s time for us all to sit down together and discuss your plan to change your name. Let us know when you have the time._

Loki wants to scream. They consider tearing the letter up. They want to burn it. They want to take the gift card and cut it into shreds. They want-

They go in to see their therapist.

Predictably, the entire session is taken up by Loki’s coming out stories, and the note. Loki isn’t angry about the note itself. While they _are_ one big ball of anxiety over the prospect of being forced to defend themself against the combined forces of their mother and father, they know it’s only fair that they provide some sort of explanation. 

But the name?

Loki had one request, and Odin had deliberately mentioned Loki’s need for a name change while simultaneously dismissing it, by the use of the name Loki wants to rid themself of.

Maybe they’re being unreasonable. Maybe it really is too much to ask, to ask their parents to change the name they use. But Tony and Sigyn didn’t have any problem switching, and while an argument could be made that they’ve known Loki for less time, and therefore the switch would be easier, it also stands to reason that Tony and Sigyn have less reason to make the switch. Odin and Frigga are their _parents_. They should- they should want to make the effort.

Loki trembles in the dining hall, feeling the chilly air of the AC acutely. They hate the cold.

Another meeting is set, at the same cafe. Loki thinks they might like tea.


	4. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains detailed descriptions of cutting and a very defined suicide plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy fucking father's day.

Loki sits on the closed toilet in their dorm-room bathroom. They’re naked, completely bare, and tears run down their face. Their roommate is out, probably in class, and Loki has class too, in an hour. Physics. 

They’re wearing headphones, playing music. Brick Walls, Butterfly. A little black cartridge turns over and over in their hands.

Apparently no one stops you from buying a package of safety razors and enough ibuprofen to kill a horse, even when you’re red-faced and tear-streaked. 

The first blade is silver and shining when they pull it free. Loki eyes it, detached and almost dazed. It’s a familiar sight, not quite a comfort, but not upsetting either.

It’s sharp, and the first line drips red down their arm as they add another scar to the multitude of old tissue already hatching their skin.

_Look, I’m going to be selfish. I don’t want to explain to people that my kid’s transgender. I don’t want my parents to know. I don’t want my friends to know._

Twenty nine on the left arm, up above the elbow where their t-shirts will hide the scabs and scars. Loki bears down hard, and blood pools around their elbow, drips down over their fingers when they let their left arm fall limp. They switch hands, bringing the sharp razor up to their right arm, but- but there’s a tattoo. A victory mark. A sign of better days, and the tears fall fresh. Loki skips over the right arm, over the tattoo of the bird they can say without hesitation saved their life when they were only fifteen. The bird that died, because Loki said he couldn’t breathe, and Odin said he had only learned how to make a new sound. A sharp sob escapes Loki before they can bite it back, and they lift their right leg, bracing their foot against the sink. 

Eighteen cuts on their thigh, in a neat ladder of scarlet lines. They’ll scar brown, where the arm line will scar white. Just like all the others. 

But they won’t really be given the time to scar, will they?

Loki drops the razor in the sink, spattering red droplets against white porcelain, and they breathe. In, out. 

The value-size bottle of ibuprofen sits open on the countertop, and Loki picks it up.

Side-effects: intestinal bleeding. The same as the meds they take to control their depression. Ha. Control.

With any fucking luck, the drugs will interact, and Loki will bleed out from the inside. That, or the whole bottle of Prozac will shock their brain and induce seizures. Either way, Loki won’t have to worry anymore.

_That’s just the way this family is. If you can’t take a joke, maybe you shouldn’t be a part of it._

The only thing holding them back right now, is that Loki doesn’t want to traumatize their roommate by forcing her to find their lifeless body in their shared bathroom. They need to figure out how to do it without hurting anyone else.

_Change your fucking name for all I care. I’ll transfer your savings accounts to you, and then I don’t care if you come home. Figure out your own transportation, but don’t come crying to me._

Loki had thought- When they told their parents they were a lesbian, Odin said not to flaunt it, but otherwise it was okay. When they told their parents they were asexual, their parents didn’t care. Loki had been preparing for the worst here. Thor had warned them, concern in his blue eyes, that this would be different. That Odin wouldn’t take it well. Loki had prepared. They thought they had prepared. 

But fucking _fuck_ , they hadn’t really prepared at all. Some insidious little scrap of poisonous hope held out, whispering that Loki was Odin’s _kid_. That Odin wouldn’t really- wouldn’t really-

The pills rattle around in their bottle as Loki pours out a handful, stares at them with dull, red eyes. 

Their mouth is burning, still damaged from gulping down boiling tea the night before, the night when- The night of the conversation. The night Odin had said he didn’t want to deal with changing Loki’s name on insurance documents. The night Odin said Loki was making it all up.

The night Odin said not to come home.

Loki closes their eyes. Breathes in, breathes out.

The pills go back into the bottle. They can’t do it right now, not without traumatizing their roommate, and they have physics in ten minutes. Loki cleans the blood away with alcohol wipes, puts their clothes back on- black and denim, to hide the seeping stains. They clean the blood from the floor, from the closed toilet, from the sink, and the paper is all flushed away, while the razors hide in their first-aid kit.

They have physics in five minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, I do not want comments on this. Please.


End file.
